Eric had decided to go the mall. While in itself not a strange idea, it was a little out of Eric’s comfort zone. Usually, if he had an errant, he would stop by whatever shop he needed something from after work. On this particular Sunday afternoon though, he had decided to go to the mall. The point of his excursion was to buy a shirt for a birthday party he was going to next week. Usually, Eric would not have worried about what shirt he would be wearing seven days from now, but the last couple of months he had found himself worrying more and more about that sort of thing. Eric just assumed it was part of being an adult. After checking two stores for shirts, Eric had deemed his mission a failure, and settled on wearing the one nice shirt he already owned. He only wore it for this kind occasion anyway, so really it would be unnecessary to own more than one fancy shirt. After realizing he had only been at the mall for fifteen minutes, Eric had decided to meander. After buying a medium soda at a kiosk he had wondered up to the cinema, and was now pursuing the posters of upcoming movies. Having never done this whole Sunday perusing thing before, Eric simply stood in front of every movie poster for an exorbitant amount of time. Then he would take a sip of his soda, before moving on to the next poster. While staring at a poster for an upcoming adaptation of a Swedish crime drama, someone hurriedly handed him a brown paper bag, and mumbled something about holding on to it for just a second, before disappearing. Eric had been so taken aback by this he had failed to utter even the faintest of protests. He had not even seen where the person had gone.
Eric took a moment to regain his composure, and readjust after having his personal space violated. He really needed to get better at saying no to people, he thought to himself. But that was a matter for another time. Someone had entrusted their belongings to him, so for now he was their guardian. Strange really, to run off like that after handing something of yours to a total stranger.
“It must not be very important to them if they are not afraid of me stealing it,” Eric thought.
Not that he was the kind of person who would break that kind of trust, regardless of how important the bag was. But on the other hand, why have someone look after it if it was not important? For the first time, Eric really looked at the bag. It was unassuming in the way only a paper bag could be. It was not a briefcase, or purse, or… hold on, had the person who gave him the bag been a man or a woman? It struck Eric how unbelievably unobservant he was. He had no idea what the person looked like. What if some stranger asked him for the bag? What would he do? He really had no clue who the rightful owner was. Not that it mattered, probably. He would be able to tell when they showed up for their somewhat important, but not quite, bag of whatever. Eric was beginning to wonder what could be in the bag. He shifted his weight, and while doing so subtlety weighted the bag in his hand. It was quite heavy, and definitely one object. The bag had to contain one, kind of big, heavy-ish, spherical object. A ball? No, too heavy for a ball. Maybe a bowling ball? No, that would be ridiculous. Who would carry around a bowling ball in a paper bag. Then again, Eric could not conjure up any other object of this weight and size that made any sense.
Eric wanted to look in the bag. He had always had a curious nature. He would not look in the bag, but god he wanted to. What on earth could it be? Not that it mattered. Someone had picked him out of the crowed, and felt he was trustworthy enough to hold on to this bag until they returned. It could be something personal they did not want a stranger to peek at. That just made it all the more exciting. Alright, Eric had to look in the bag. If the owner did not show up in the next thirty seconds, he was fully justified to look in the bag. He was its guardian after all. He needed to know what he was guarding. Eric counted thirty grueling seconds in his head. He might have rushed the last ten, but now he was within his full right to look in the bag. Eric snuck a couple of glances at his surroundings, and after finding the coast clear, opened the bag and looked inside.
It was a head.
It was a human head.
There was a human head in the bag.
There was no doubt in Eric’s mind. This was not some well-crafted Halloween prop. It was without a shred of doubt a real human head. After what felt like way too long to be looking at a head, Eric shook himself awake and snapped the bag closed. Oh god. Why would anyone put a head in a bag? Why would they hand it off to a stranger like their half-eaten lunch? Eric’s throat went dry, and with shaking hands he took a sip of his soda. Oh no. he had been handed this bag with a head in it by a murderer. The nondescript person had obviously handed off the bag after killed this poor, man? Woman? Even after staring at if for what felt like ages, Eric had not the slightest clue about the identity of the previous owner of the head. Come to think of it, he had no idea if the head had hair. Did it still have ears, or lips, or teeth? Eyes? How could he be so sure it was a head in the bag, but have no idea if it exhibited any of the characteristics you would expect of a head?
The world started to spin. This whole Sunday trip to the mall had been a mistake. He had not even bought the shirt he came here for. If only he had picked one of the many passable shirts. Then his hands would have been full, shirt bag in one, soda in the other. Then the stranger would have pawned this whole nightmare off on someone else. He could have been on his way home, not worrying about holding someone’s head. Already it felt like ages had passed since he opened the bag. At this point he was unsure if he had ever really looked in the bag. It seemed like some kind of fever dream. This sort of thing did not happen. Except in Swedish crime dramas. Eric had never imagined himself at the center of something of this caliber.
After a reinvigorating sip of soda, Eric started to reevaluate the situation. The more he thought about it, the surer he got this could not be real. He did not remember what the head looked like, at all. The only thing he seemed to remember about the mystery person was them wearing a trench coat. Even that seemed absurd. He barely remembered even opening the bag to look at the head. No, this had to be a trick of his mind. For some reason, he must have spaced out while looking at that film poster about brutal Swedish murder, and imagined the whole thing.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Eric breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, the only logical conclusion was some sort of dream state, or momentary insanity. He remembers hearing about people getting out of convictions with that excuse. Thank god he had only conjured up his own horror story. He might have done something really horrible while out of it. Eric felt the sweating on his back start to die down and the adrenaline in his system petering out. The world slid back into focus, and he felt a giant weight lift from his shoulders. Everything made sense again. Except of course, he was still holding the bag. When looking at the bag, Eric felt a creeping sense of dread mixed with déjà vu. It still felt so real. Looking in the bag and having the world come crushing down. But it could not be a head in the bag. It simply made so little sense, that even entertaining the notion was ridiculous. The only way to truly purge this streak of madness from his mind was to open the bag, and make sure there was not a head in the bag.
Eric did not want to look in the bag. Some part of him was screaming at him to never open the bag, somehow rid himself of it, and disappear into some far off wood to spend the rest of his days building a log cabin. Maybe in Sweden somewhere, with absolutely no gruesome murders or decapitations. A much larger part of him was sickeningly curios. At this point, the only release from his torment was to find out what was truly in the bag. Eric drank the last of his soda, and opened the bag once more.
It was a head
It had been a head the first time
It was still a human head in the bag
Eric felt his mind starting to crack. His brain churned as he ogled the uppermost part of a corpse. Without looking up from the bag, Eric shuffled to a nearby trashcan, and dumped his empty soda inside. Then he shuffled bag to his original spot. Here he looked up from the bag, and with his now free hand closed it.
Eric realized what he had done. His mind had given him a gift by refusing to acknowledge the presence of the head the first time he looked. He had had options. He could have but the bag down and walked away with the ignorance of what was inside. He could have handed the bag off to lost and found with a clear continence, and gone home not worrying about who had to deal with this mess. Of all the options available to him, he had chosen the one that put him right back at square one. Why had he not listened to himself? He could have been on his way to the bus headed for the airport, and been on the first plane to Sweden. Anywhere in Sweden, he would have answered the person at the counter. He had always wanted to do something like that. Now that time had passed, and he had to face the facts: He was definitely holding a human head. He had started to sweat again.
Eric saw no other option than keeping the head. As outlandish as holding on to it seemed, there was no way he was involving anyone else in this. The police would not believe him. God, he barley believed himself. Some stranger of inscrutable gender, maybe in a trench coat, had handed him a bag, and after violating that someone’s property and looking inside, he had discovered a head he could not recognize if shown a picture of it. That would play well in court. Eric tried to suppress the fact that he was still unsure what the head looked like. What if it was a woman’s head? He would look like some perverted lunatic, carrying it around for God knows what reason. Somehow it would be better if it was a man’s head. Granted, not a lot better, but at least he would only look like a murderer.
Eric was starting to understand why the stranger had given him the head. A head was one of the worst body parts to be carrying around in a mall on a Sunday. If he had committed this crime he would definitely had done something like this. Chop the victim up, put bits of them in bags, and slowly hand off the parts to strangers. When they found out what was going on, you would be over the hills and they would be to terrified of being implicated to do anything other than keep their share of the corpse and dispose of it themselves. He did feel implicated. By confirming that he was standing in public holding a human head, he had cast off any doubt that he was involved. At this point it was just a matter of time before they found him.
Eric was really starting to sweat now. That was a dead giveaway he was involved in this twisted murder scheme. Why are you nervous if you are innocent? He could hear the bad cop in his head, desk lamp pointed in his face. The good cop would plead with him to make a deal and save himself. Knowing his inability to say no, Eric would probably cave and take the deal, plead guilty, and go to jail. Maybe that was not a bad plan. Jail would of course not be all fun and games, but he would have plenty of time to do all the things he always said he wanted to. Read all the classics he claimed to have read. Write that play he always regretted bringing up at dinner parties. When he got out he could talk about the play he had written, not just planning to write. Maybe he could even write about this whole mess. Gosh, that would be some book. Incarcerated for a crime he did not commit, but through the prison system he became a better man. That sort of story could get him on panel shows, or at the very least morning TV.
Just as Eric had accepted the hand fate had dealt him, he remembered his mom. What would she think when she saw him on the news? Oh no, she would be devastated. Her own son, a brutal murderer. All sorts of people would ask her questions and take pictures. She would have a nervous breakdown and say all sorts of things about him. How she always knew he was a bad egg. Not like his brother, the doctor. And with that, keeping the head and waiting for the police to apprehend him was no longer an option. The thought of his mother crying in the living room, and judging his life decisions on national TV was simply too embarrassing.
Eric had to start thinking like the mystery person in the trench coat. At the mall, what is the best way to get rid of a head? He could simply drop it and walk away, but then someone might ask him why he dropped his bag, and no explanation would get him out of simply picking it back up. He could carry it with him out of the mall, but the longer he held on to it, the more variables became a problem. Who would see him with the bag? What if someone caught a glimpse inside? The whole thing became too complex. The best solution was getting rid of the bag soon, and in a manner where no one would ask questions before he had time to make his escape.
Eric had an idea. A simple, elegant, terrible idea. In one fell swoop he could rid himself of this whole thing. He could be well on this way home before anyone could tie the situation to him. He could be free. There was only one downside to the plan, and this was the terrible part. Could Eric do that to someone else? The price of his escape would be someone else’s day. It would cause them terrible grief, and they would take the same agonizing journey he had suffered through himself. After a couple of ragged breaths, Eric decided it had to be done. This was survival of the fittest, and while he might not be the fittest, he could just this once trick the universe into thinking he was. After scanning the crowd, his eyes settled on a man trying to take a picture of one of the movie posters. Eric steeled himself, and walked up to the man:
“Hey, hold this for a sec please? Thanks.”